The Coincidence
by Voyager Tip
Summary: Can two friends have the same unusual problem at the same time, or is that too much of a coincidence?
1. The Shed

ch 1 The Shed

"Appendicitis?" McCormick responded when Hardcastle gave him the news. "But, he was just here this morning, he said it was nothing," he continued, thinking back to Frank's visit. He had declined breakfast, saying he had a little too much partying the night before.

"Well, it was something," Hardcastle answered.

"So, how is he?" Mark asked.

"He's doing as well as can be expected. They got to it before it ruptured, that's the important thing."

"I knew someone that had that in prison, we were all jealous cuz he got to stay in the infirmary for a week talking to the nurses. Kinda makes you think, ya know, … he was just here in the kitchen talking to us, and now he's in the hospital."

"Yeah, and you've got work to do."

"We should send him a card," Mark continued.

"He'll be home in a few days, we can bring him some candy," Hardcastle acknowledged, then pointed out the window toward the side yard, "how far did you get on that shed?"

"It's almost all scraped, I can start painting on Monday."

"Monday! You've been fooling around with that shed for 2 days now," Hardcastle yelled.

"It's a bigger job than you think!" Mark yelled back.

"Yeah, and you also don't want to do it!" Milt paused and lowered his voice for effect as he pointed out the window again, "finish it this morning and start painting this afternoon!"

"I'll never be able to finish today!" Mark said nastily, as he stormed out muttering to himself. "I can't believe him. Does he think the only thing in my life is these chores? God, he is such a donkey," he continued to mutter to himself as he made his way toward the back of the property, to the shed.

It had been so overgrown with weeds, that he'd spent most of the first day just exposing the wood before he could even start to scrape the paint. He stood staring at the shed and sighed. It was unfair, but, this was his lot in life, and there was no way around that. He'd just have to try his best, and however far along with the job he was at the end of the day would have to be good enough. As he bent to pick up the scraper, he felt a slight pain in his stomach. He rubbed it absentmindedly as he started to work.

The morning dragged on, with Mark slowly feeling worse. He finished the 3rd side of the shed and had started on the 4th when Hardcastle came out to check on his progress.

"It's time for lunch… is this all you've got done?"

Mark stopped working and looked the judge in the eye defiantly, hoping his expression didn't show any pain related to his worsening stomach ache. "I'm not hungry," he said.

Milt laughed, "hah! that'll be the day. You just remember I can pull your ticket any time, and I want this job done and done right!"

Mark cringed inwardly at the threat, just as he did every time the judge brought up his proper place in their unique arrangement. "I'll eat later," he said softly and went back to his scraping. If he had to quit early because he was sick, he wanted as much of the job to be done as possible.

Hardcastle stormed back into the house angrily. Why did McCormick have to be so stubborn! All he wanted was an honest day's work out of the kid, he didn't want him to miss meals. McCormick was just doing this to spite him. Well, two could play at that game! With that, he made a sandwich for himself and put away the other food. Then, he went into the den to eat alone.

Mark worked for another hour, his stomach feeling more and more painful. Finally he had to stop and bend away from the shed to vomit. Not much came up. As he stood up a wave of dizziness washed over him and he reached out for the shed to steady himself. That was probably because he'd had nothing to eat or drink since breakfast, and even then he hadn't eaten much. He sighed, like it or not, he was going to have to stop working, and he dreaded having to tell the judge. He hadn't even finished scraping the last side of the shed yet. But, he really had no choice, he told himself, as he angrily trudged toward the house.

Hardcastle looked up from his desk when the door to the den opened. "Lunch is in the kitchen," he said coldly.

McCormick heard the cold tone and responded angrily, "I told you I'm not hungry." He paused and then continued in a softer voice, "I'm not feeling too well judge, I'm gonna call it quits for today."

Hardcastle stared at him, "I know what you're doing McCormick and it won't work!"

"What do you mean?"

"You got a good idea from Frank Harper, didn't ya!"

"What?" McCormick's anger almost covered his hurt feelings.

"He got sick, so now you think you'll give it a try so you can stop working on that shed!" Hardcastle accused. "You think you're the first person to pull that kind of stunt? Huh?"

"As usual judge, you are so interested in being right, that you are missing the point!" Mark responded in a low, angry voice. "I really am sick!" he repeated, enunciating each word.

"Pretty convenient illness if you ask me, think it's your appendix too?" Hardcastle said sarcastically.

"I'm not asking you!" McCormick barked back, and with that, he turned and left the den.


	2. The Drive

H&M ch 2 Not a Normal Drive

Mark walked to the Gatehouse as quickly as he could. Once inside, he sat down on the sofa, sure that resting would help the pain in his stomach. It did ease up for a while and he just sat quietly, trying to figure out what to do about it. He'd never had a pain like this before, it was constant, and slowly, just maybe, it was getting worse. Maybe it was his appendix after all. He should call Hardcastle, but what would he say? That it couldn't be his appendix, that would be too much of a coincidence. He sat still for another hour, trying to decide what to do, then, all of a sudden, he felt the pain move to his right side and get much worse. He doubled over, breathing hard and thinking that he needed to go to the Emergency Room, but what if it turned out to be nothing serious? He couldn't let Hardcastle know he went to the hospital over nothing. The judge thought he was pretending to be sick as it was. Carefully, Mark stood up, still bent over, clutching his side and grabbed the keys to the Coyote on the way to the door.

H&M

Milton C. Hardcastle sat at his desk thinking. He could hear McCormick's voice as clear as if he was still standing in the room._ 'You are so interested in being right, that you are missing the point. I really am sick,_' he'd said, and the more the judge thought about it, the more he realized it was probably true. He'd noticed that Mark looked pale, but that hadn't stopped him from accusing the kid of faking it to get out of work. He'd also noticed something else when he'd accused him, the kid had looked hurt.

Why did things have to be so hard when McCormick was around? Before McCormick moved in, everything the judge had said or done was right, was perfect even. Now, everything he said seemed to be questioned, and a problem was never far away. He had a fleeting wish that he'd never brought the ex con home in the first place. Life would be so much simpler without McCormick around.

As he settled down, he had to admit that McCormick had never used illness to get out of work before. He probably was sick. The timing of Frank's illness was just a coincidence.

Well, Mark would feel better by tomorrow and Milt wouldn't ride him any more about the shed. This would blow over with no need for an apology, just like all their arguments.

The sound of the coyote's engine interrupted his thoughts and Hardcastle moved to the window in time to see the sports car pull away from the Gatehouse. "Huh," he mumbled, feeling vindicated, "can't be very sick if he's going for a drive."


	3. The Call

H&M ch 3 The Call

It was a slow afternoon in the Emergency Department and the nurses were very efficient. Mark walked in, bent over, holding onto his side and within minutes he was being evaluated. Within an hour, they were preparing him for surgery. As he lay on the stretcher, he suddenly remembered that Hardcastle didn't know what was happening. He reached up and grasped the doctor's arm. "Listen doc, you've gotta call judge Milton Hardcastle and let him know what's going on. The number's on my chart, he's my only family."

"We always call family to let them know about things like this," the doctor replied as he grasped the side rail and helped to push the stretcher, "someone will call him, but right now I need to get you upstairs so I can operate."

H&M

Hardcastle stood in the side yard, staring at the shed. There was still a lot of prep work to be done before it could be painted. McCormick had been honest about that, and he'd done a good job scraping away the old paint chips on the first 3 sides, but the quality of work on the last side wasn't up to his usual standard. Milt sighed, he had no doubts now that McCormick really hadn't felt well. He bent down and picked up a scraper off the ground. Ordinarily, he would ream the kid out for leaving tools out to get rusted, but now he was of a mind to overlook it, just this once.

"Going soft on him is probably a mistake," he whispered to himself as he walked to the garage and put the tool back on the shelf. As he walked back to the house he continued to mutter. "If he was so sick, I doubt he would've gone out for a drive, I suppose he could be at the pharmacy."

Back in the den, he noticed the answering machine light was blinking, he rewound it and pushed the button.

"This call is for judge Hardcastle, judge, please call St. Mary's Hospital Admitting Department as soon as possible. 606-555-2435."

The judge moved to the window so he could see the Gatehouse, even as his stomach tightened into a knot. He reached for the phone and dialed the number.

"Yes judge," said the friendly voice on the line, "please hold for one of our doctors."

"Hardcastle stood rocking back and forth from one foot to another. This couldn't be about McCormick, he hadn't been gone that long. How could he have gotten into an accident on a bright sunny day like this. It had to be something else, maybe something had happened with Frank Harper, he felt a surge of hope and then guilt.

"Yes judge, this is Dr. Greene. I called about Mark McCormick, he's up in surgery now, acute appendicitis."

Hardcastle froze, "appendicitis? Are you sure?" he asked, then mentally kicked himself, of course they were sure, they were operating on the kid.

"The surgeon won't be 100% sure until he opens him up, but we're pretty sure, yes. You're listed as his only family and he asked us to let you know what was going on."

"Thank you, I'll come right over." Hardcastle hung up and stood in shock, staring into space. The kid must have driven himself to the hospital._ 'Why didn't he tell me?_' he thought. Then another voice answered from inside his guilty conscience,_ 'you said he was faking it, he didn't think you'd believe him.'_ Hardcastle shook his head and said out loud, "you just better be alright kiddo, or you're in big trouble, that's all I've got to say!"


	4. He Listed You As Family

H&M ch 4 He Listed You As Family

_'He listed you as family'._ The phrase spoken by the doctor echoed in Hardcastle's mind as he sat quietly in the waiting room of the surgery suite. It felt surprisingly good to hear.

As the minutes dragged by, Hardcastle became more and more concerned. Removing an appendix was relatively simple surgery, as surgery went. It shouldn't be taking this long. Maybe they didn't realize he was here. He went to the intercom and spoke with the secretary. Yes, they knew he was waiting, they were still in surgery.

His heart was pounding, his palms were sweaty. He suddenly realized what was wrong with him. It was fear.

"Judge Hardcastle?" the voice from the doorway jarred him out of his thoughts.

"Yes, how is he?" Milt stood up immediately and walked over to the tired looking surgeon.

"I'm Dr. Miles, I operated on Mr. McCormick" the doctor began.

"How is he?"

"He came through the surgery and is in the recovery room now."

Milt felt himself relax when he heard these words, but the next thing the doctor said stopped him cold.

"Unfortunately, his appendix ruptured before I could get it out. He has an infection in the abdominal cavity called peritonitis." He paused, "it's very serious. He has a fever that will get worse before it gets better. I've started him on antibiotics, and I'm putting him into the surgical intensive care unit."

Milt felt himself sway and put his hand out to the wall to steady himself.

The doctor moved a chair behind the judge and pushed his shoulder down until he was sitting. "Sorry, I should've asked you to sit down before I said anything."

"I'm fine," Hardcastle said, waving his hand to push away the nurse offering him a glass of water. "What happens now?"

"Well, he has two problems; the incisional pain from the surgery and the infection. I'm treating him for the infection and fever as we speak. As he comes out of the anesthesia, he'll have pain in the incision, I'll order pain medication for that."

"When will he come out of the anesthesia?"

"Another hour or two."

"Can I see him now? Be there when he wakes up?"

"Why don't you go on over to the Surgical ICU waiting room. Once he's there, you can see him. When an for how long will depend on what's going on over there."

"Thank you Dr. Miles," Milt replied and headed over to the next waiting area. _'Ruptured appendix'_ he thought to himself, _"that could be bad, real bad."_

H&M

He found the SICU waiting area and let the receptionist know he was there, then, he sat down to wait, his worry temporarily replacing his guilty conscience. Surgical intensive care was not somewhere he wanted anyone he loved to be.

Loved? Where had that thought come from? He shook his head, confused about the emotions he was feeling.

_'He listed you as family'_, there was that phrase again. He could hear it repeating over and over.

Then suddenly, he heard himself speaking _'pretty convenient illness'_. It was the last thing he'd said to Mark and the memory of it made his stomach turn. And after you said that, _'he listed you as family'_._ Why would he do that? 'Because that's how he feels'_ he couldn't seem to stop the internal dialog.

"Judge, you can come in now," he stood up immediately and followed the nurse through the doors in a daze.

She showed him to a small cubicle area, surrounded by curtains on tracks in the ceiling. He walked to the bed and leaned on the rail, then reached down and rested his hand on Mark's forehead. He felt hot and his eyes remained closed. The air seemed filled with beeps and buzzes, but all he wanted to hear was McCormick's voice. He sighed and glanced up at the screen above the bed. Mark's vital signs were displayed and he searched for the temperature, 103.2.

The groan brought his attention back to his friend. He'd moved his head and Milt reached for his hand. "Hey kiddo, can you hear me?" he asked hopefully.

But, apparently Mark had drifted back under the effects of the anesthetic drugs and there was no response.

Over the next half hour, the patient drifted in and out of consciousness, until finally he opened his eyes and squeezed Milt's hand.

"Judge?"

"I'm right here kiddo."

"It hurts. What happened?" Mark asked. He felt afraid, and was grateful for the judge's hand and held it tightly.

Hardcastle rang the call bell as he spoke, "you're in the hospital, you're gonna be okay."

The nurse approached immediately and began to assess Mark as Hardcastle watched her check the dressing on his abdomen and fiddle with the IV tubing.

"Can he have something for pain?" he asked.

"When he wakes up a little more fully," she answered, and Hardcastle realized that Mark was dozing again.

He shook his head,_ "come on kid, please wake up for real so we can talk."_ The urge to apologize weighed heavily on Milt's shoulders. He didn't often make mistakes, and he hardly ever apologized to anyone. But this, his thoughts ground to a halt and he stared at Mark's still form, this was different. Mark meant a lot more to him than he'd ever realized, and he'd treated him worse than he'd ever treated anyone in his life. He felt numb and wanted to relieve his guilt, but he suddenly realized that it wouldn't be fair to ease his conscience when Mark was in such a weakened state and couldn't really understand. It seemed cowardly. No, he'd have to wait until the kid was out of the woods to apologize for his actions.

Mark floated in and out of consciousness, afraid of being in this hot empty void forever. His awareness of the judge's presence was his only tool to combat the fear. The pain in his side and the heat seemed unbearable. Through it all, he could feel Hardcastle's hand on his, and hear his voice. Sometimes he was able to squeeze back, and sometimes speak, but mostly he felt trapped and afraid.

Finally, 2 hours after Milt arrived at his side, Mark opened his eyes and spoke.

"Hi."

Milt felt tears spring to his eyes, "hi yourself."

"Well, it's nice to see you awake," said Dr. Miles as he approached the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," McCormick answered haltingly.

"Do you know what happened?"

"You thought it was appendicitis, you were gonna operate."

"I removed your appendix a few hours ago. It ruptured and now we're treating you for the infection."

"That why I feel so bad?" Mark asked.

"Yes, you have a fever and I'm afraid you'll be uncomfortable until we get the infection under control."

Mark closed his eyes and heard the doctor move away. So that's what had happened. When he opened his eyes again, they connected with Hardcastle's, "I feel awful," he whispered.

"I know kiddo, it's gonna get better, hang in there, okay?"

Mark stared at the judge, and suddenly he remembered what had happened. He pulled his hand away from Hardcastle's grasp and looked away.

"What's wrong?"

"I've never faked being sick to get out of work," Mark whispered.

Hardcastle's chest felt tight. "I know. I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I said some things I'm not proud of."

He waited, hoping the kid would say something to keep the conversation going. What he did say took Hardcastle by surprise.

"I want you to leave."


	5. PO or Employer?

h&m ch 5 PO & Employer

"What?" Milt asked, stunned.

"Just leave, okay, I don't want you here. My Parole Officer doesn't have a right to be here … watching everything. I'll have the doctor write you a note about why I'll miss my next appointment if you don't believe what I tell you."

Hardcastle froze, the words cutting into him like a knife.

"The same goes for my employer. I'll get a note when I can go back to work." Mark forced his voice to be hard, to hide his hurt feelings. He'd thought that they had started to care about each other, maybe even become friends, but that was obviously not true.

Mark felt hurt and afraid of what was happening to him. The heat felt like torture, the doctor had said he had a fever, but no fever had ever felt like this. He realized Hardcastle was still at his side when the burning pain in his stomach suddenly got worse. "Go, just get out, I've been alone my whole life, I don't want you here," he finished with a gasp as the pain suddenly flared up.

"Okay," Hardcastle said quietly, and then left. Once he was back in the waiting area, he sat down, shaken. He hadn't expected the kid to shut him out like that. This was when Mark really needed him, not as a PO or an employer, but as a friend. Then he felt his anger rise. _"He should have told me how bad it was,"_ he argued with himself. _"It's his own fault for waiting so long to get himself to the hospital."_

Then his conscience took hold again. He'd threatened to send McCormick back to prison, and he knew that Mark would do anything to keep that from happening. He'd also said he was faking it. After Milt said that, he knew Mark would never have come to him to try to explain that he needed to see a doctor. No, he'd have done just what he did. Worked in the yard until he couldn't do it any longer, then driven himself to the hospital. It wasn't Mark's fault he'd gotten there too late. It was Milt's fault… 100%.

_"Now he doesn't want you here, and who could blame him. Because of you, he doesn't think he has anyone. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this. He doesn't want me to see him so sick, because that's too private._

_'He listed you as family'_, Hardcastle heard the doctor's voice again, echoing inside his head. "Boy, when I mess up, I really mess up," he whispered out loud. He stared at the floor. He'd deserved to be kicked out for the way he'd treated the kid. He rose sadly and started toward the elevator. McCormick sure wasn't in a mood to see him right now, that's for sure.

H&M

Milton C. Hardcastle entered the house and set down his keys. Silence surrounded him, and he felt a dull pain in his gut as he realized how much he missed McCormick. The house was too quiet. Even though the kid lived in the Gatehouse, Milt could always seem to feel his presence. But right now, with it so quiet, all Milt felt was ashamed. He also felt lonely, and this surprised him. When had he gotten so attached to McCormick? It was amazing that less than three hours ago he'd been thinking that he regretted bringing him here. Milt shook his head, disgusted with himself. _'He listed you as family'_, he heard again.

_"You don't deserve that kid"_, he thought to himself as he wandered into the kitchen and started to fix himself a snack so he could have something else to think about for a while. As he raised it to take a bite, he paused, wondering if Mark was too sick to feel hungry. Normally, he'd be sitting down across from the judge about now, talking a blue streak about something or other. Suddenly he realized he didn't want to eat. He put it down and stared at the tabletop in a silent daze.

There was mail to finish going through, but all Milt could seem to do was pace nervously around the house. He paused beside his wife Nancy's picture, and heard her voice, plain as day, _'you really screwed up this time Milt!'_

Finally, he headed back out to the truck. Maybe the kid didn't want him there, but he'd be close by anyway. What else could he do? Mark was probably feeling better by now and he might even be able to tell him how sorry he was, try to make things right.


	6. The Crisis

H&M ch 6 Crisis

Hardcastle was allowed into the patient area of the SICU as soon as he arrived. There were several doctor's and a nurse clustered around Mark's bed. His heart sped up, this didn't look good. As the kid came into view, his legs felt weak. He reached out to take his hand, he didn't look good at all.

"What's going on?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Mark's face.

"The fever's not responding to the antibiotics," one of the doctors answered. "Let's start gentamycin, and get a cooling blanket on him," he told the nurse as he made a note in the chart and put it into a basket outside the cubicle opening as he walked out.

Hardcastle watched them file out, "so what are they gonna do about it?" he asked the nurse.

"They've just started a third antibiotic now, and we're going to use a cooling blanket to help to bring down the fever," she explained as she left.

Milt turned back to his friend and watched his chest rise and fall, too fast to be comforting. Mark's eyes were closed and the screen above his bed showed a read-out of his heart rate. How could he be laying still and have a pulse rate of 136. It seemed incredible when he thought of all the times they had compared pulse rates.

He put his hand on Mark's forehead, it was still hot and dry.

"Hey kiddo? Can you hear me?" he leaned down and spoke close to his ear.

Mark moaned and his eyes opened. "Judge," he whispered.

Milt reached down and squeezed his hand. "Yeah it's me."

As Mark gazed up at the judge, relief flooded through him. It would have been so easy for Hardcastle to stay away, yet here he was, back again.

"You came back," Mark said weakly.

"Course I did, you can't get rid of me that easy. Now stop talking and rest."

Mark closed his eyes, but continued to squeeze the judge's hand tightly.

Hardcastle stood beside the bed, his heart pounding in his chest and breathing hard. McCormick looked very sick. Sick enough maybe not to make it. The thought scared him. The ex con had been with him for two years now, and against all odds, he'd come to think of him as a friend. He thought of J.J. Beale, and how one dimensional he had been compared to McCormick. J.J. had always given the perfect answer, had the perfect story. Had always tried to impress. When he'd finally taken J.J. home, he'd been so sure that he would work out and he'd been so wrong.

But, when McCormick had appeared in his courtroom for stealing the Coyote, it had been the opposite. He hadn't tried to impress the judge at all. He had been full of attitude, trying to push Hardcastle's buttons, not interested in impressing him. Little did he know that his file already had impressed the judge. Hardcastle had already known McCormick was different, because while he was escaping with the Coyote, he'd stopped to rescue a cop from a burning wreck. Milt had tracked down the officer and spoken with him. He'd heard first-hand what Mark had done and what he'd said to the officer before he left him on the side of the road. And after the officer identified him and he'd been arrested, Mark hadn't even mentioned it. He could have used it as evidence that he wasn't a hardened criminal and therefore shouldn't have the maximum sentence thrown at him. His lawyer hadn't mentioned it. Mark had probably never even told him, and his attorney, being such a greenhorn, had never found it in the police report. Hardcastle hadn't understood why the young man hadn't used that in his defense at the time, though now he knew. Rescuing people in trouble was something that McCormick just did, like breathing. He didn't consider it extraordinary.

In his courtroom that day, McCormick had had a smart mouth and insulted him. Back in his chambers, he'd even refused the arrangement at first, because he wanted to get the guy who killed his friend Flip. That made him different too. He had wanted to bring a murderer to justice.

H&M

The ICU was noisy and busy. Milt had to wait outside in the waiting room at times. Sometimes he was only allowed to visit for 10 minutes of an hour. But, he stayed as close as he could get throughout the night, thankful that the kid had seemed to want what comfort he could offer.

He was sitting beside the bed in the cubicle at 5 am when McCormick opened his eyes and moaned.

"It's okay," Milt said immediately as he reached through the rail and put his hand over Mark's arm. Milt did a double-take when he stood up to get a better look at the kid. "You look a bit better kiddo," he said softly.

"I think I feel better," Mark answered.

Milt stood up and reached out to put his hand on the kid's forehead. It was wet with sweat, and cool to the touch. Relief flooded through him and he lowered his head onto his arm on the rail, saying a quick prayer.

Mark watched the judge in disbelief. He actually looked overwhelmed with relief. How could that be? Maybe he was still a bit out of it after all. He felt the hand on his forehead and glanced down at Hardcastles other hand, still squeezing his arm. His touch had been a God-send during the worst of this misery. But now, he could remember everything clearly and the touch just didn't jive with his feelings.

Milt suddenly seemed uncomfortable too, and pulled his hands away from the ex con.

"You don't need to stay any more, I'm fine now," Mark began. "Well, I will be."

Milt paused, wondering if it was too early to bring up his apology. The next words from McCormick convinced him he needed to do just that.

"Really judge, you've done too much. Nobody does this much for the hired help."


	7. Stuck

H&M ch 7 Stuck

Milt began to speak then, low and slowly. "You aren't just the hired help McCormick."

"You don't have to say anything ju…"

"You're family kiddo. Plain and simple. An I'm sorry for how I treated you."

Silence.

Mark froze, a questioning look on his face. "What?"

Milt smiled as he realized how much better he felt. Not only that he'd gotten the apology out, but that he'd finally told the kid how he felt.

"I never wanted to say it before, because I thought it would go to your head, maybe get you into trouble. That was stupid."

"I'm not hearing right… I must be sicker than I thought," Mark whispered and closed his eyes.

Milt smiled.

"There's no need to apologize judge," Mark began, hoping to get things back on more familiar ground. "I've been taking care of myself since I was 12. I shouldn't have expected you to care what happens to me, no one else does. Anyway, you were here all night. If you did owe me anything, I think you're paid up."

Throughout the speech, Mark kept his eyes closed, he looked exhausted. Milt watched the monitor readout; the temperature was 101.4 and pulse was 108.

"You just rest, you've still got a ways to go. But while you're resting, you think on this…I do care, and sooner or later I'm gonna make you believe that."

H&M

Over the next several hours Mark's temperature returned to normal and he fell into a natural sleep. Hardcastle waited close by for each new bulletin on Mark's condition, and was gratified that the improvement was steady. Each time McCormick woke up he seemed stronger.

"I'm thirsty," Mark whispered when he opened his eyes at 10 am.

Hardcastle offered some ice chips on a spoon. "You really don't have to stay," Mark said as he took the ice.

"Sure I do. I got some more things I need to tell you."

"Like what?"

"Like, the next time I start acting like an idiot, you need to tell me! Shake me if you have to, but make me understand!"

"Is that before or after you threaten to send me back to prison?" Mark answered angrily.

Hardcastle paused, then continued in a soft voice, "any time kiddo. I'm real ashamed of the way I acted. Family is supposed to take care of each other."

"Hardcase, this guilt is making you say some crazy things."

"Maybe it's not so crazy. I never expected to feel like you're family, but I do." He paused, then continued on loudly, "I didn't choose this to happen you know! We weren't supposed to be friends! I'm just as surprised as you are!"

"So now you're yelling at me during this apology?" Mark asked in an amused tone, suddenly feeling happier than he had in an incredibly long time.

The judge calmed down. "Well, it's just that you don't usually have a choice of who your family is. You're just stuck with them. And, I didn't really have a choice with you. It just happened."

"So that's what you are now? Stuck with me?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

Mark swallowed hard. "Goes both ways ya know."

"Huh?"

"I get stuck with you too, judge. And that's a pretty good deal."

Milt leaned back in the chair and sighed contentedly, suddenly very tired.

"I already listed you as my family you know," Mark continued.

"I know," Hardcastle said softly.

"I was afraid if something bad happened, they wouldn't let you in or tell you what was going on. They can be sticklers about privacy when they want."

Milt would have answered, except that the lump in his throat made it impossible.

Suddenly, a nurse appeared on the other side of the bed. "I'm Cindy, your nurse, how are you doing?"

"Not too bad."

"How's your pain on a scale of 0 to 10, zero is no pain and 10 is the worst you can imagine?" she asked as she lifted the sheet and checked the dressing.

Mark paused, "6 I guess, an I'm cold."

Milt stood up, alarmed by the change in Mark's tone of voice. He followed as Cindy motioned him toward a metal cabinet. She removed a heated blanket and gave it to him. "I'll get him something for pain and you can put this on him," she directed. She knew that it was important to have family involved in the patient's care if they wanted to be, and she felt that the judge needed to help.

Milt took the blanket, glad for something practical to do that didn't involve speaking. He spread it over Mark and pulled it up to cover his shoulders.

Cindy returned quietly, "I just put some medicine for pain into the IV tubing, you should start feeling better soon," she told her patient.

"Thanks."

"She's gone already kiddo," Hardcastle told him, resting his arm on the side rail of the bed.

"I meant thanks for the blanket judge, feels good."

Milt paused, then answered in a gruff voice, "stop talking and get some rest."

Mark smiled and sighed as he closed his eyes.

Seconds passed and turned into a minute.

Milt shook his head and smiled, "it's about time you started doing what I say."

The End


End file.
